Gemotions

The bustling marketplace was a riot of colors and sounds. Anya, usually brimming with energy, stood frozen. There, amidst the stalls selling exotic spices and hand-woven rugs, was a stall displaying… her watercolors. The delicate landscapes she’d painstakingly painted, each one a memory of her travels.

A woman with a bright scarf beckoned her closer, pointing at the paintings with a flourish. "Magnificent, aren't they? Authentic talent!" Anya's mouth fell open. She felt the blood drain from her face.

She felt a strange disconnect, like she was watching a play. She couldn’t seem to move, to speak. The world swam around her, the cheerful chatter of the crowd fading into a distant hum.